Violet Evergarden: Challenge of the Ghost
by Sonata-Time-Flare-Nocturne-Aoi
Summary: One Shot Complete! Sometimes even ghostwriters face challenges as great as the battlefield. Rated T.


**Story**: Violet Evergarden: Challenge of the Ghost  
**Author**: Aoi  
**Written**: August 10, 2019  
**Genre**: Humor  
**Rating**: T  
**Disclaimer**: We do not own Violet Evergarden, but we do own the stories within.  
**Author's Note**: Aoi here, please pardon my grammar, as English is my second language.

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**{One Shot}**

There it lay before me, the lair of my inevitable foe. Long now it has plagued me, longer than can be perceived by the mind's eye.

I readied myself for the onslaught, the torment, and should I endure all else, the swift and unforgiving vengeance with which I was now prepared to strike.

"Now or never", I thought, and broke into a dead run at the mouth of the cavern, and ran right into a trap that had been laid out for me alone.

Struggling to get free of the constricting parasite matrix, my mind raced for a solution, an escape, and that thought in itself nullified the leeching tendrils of energy for a moment, I concentrated harder, and it disappeared entirely, letting gravity take its course as I collapsed to the floor.

I stood slowly, and for the first time I got a good look at just what, or rather where I had gotten myself into now. The cavern was… that is… it wasn't. There were no ominous and jagged stalagmites or stalactites, no eerie unseen drips of water, and no sort of those unnerving sounds that one would associate with such a place. This sent a chill down my spine, creepy in its own subtle way.

No, this dreary remorse was featureless, an avatar of dull, gray, emptiness. I turned to the doorway I had slipped through, but it had become to bored to maintain that shape any longer than necessary and had turned itself into a dull manifestation-like wall of nothingness like everything else around here.

Shrugging it off, I continued down the droll passage towards my beast to be slain. The next room seemed to have some texture, and there were block-like structures lying randomly scattered about the room, a large one in between me and the door. I strode on, trying to seem oblivious to my surrounding oddities, hoping they would do the same, and to no avail. Right when I was in the middle of it all, the cubes sprang, or more to say, ground to life in the form of golems with the features of sandstone bricks, probably since that was what they seemed to be composed of.

They all began shuffling towards me, creating a sound like two-penny nails being grated against a slate blackboard. I had no clue how to fight these things, these golems, because all the techniques I knew involved the assumption that the bloody thing could be bloodied. What's more was that whenever I tried to think the infernal, practically eternal racket was driving me insane my sanity slipping away like the sands of an hourglass, I want to bunch it all up into a ball, the thrice-damned Noises, and throw it in their faces, give them a taste of their own blasted medicine. Suddenly it grew unbearably loud and near, and I somewhat snapped. "Darn it! Is one moments peac…", I trailed off in the middle of my fuming as I realized that my voice, and all the other sounds that had been in the room were coming from my tightly clenched fist, and when I opened my hand there within I heard the sounds more clearly, on a whim I threw it at the nearest golem, as one would a stone at a target of frustration, shattering it to sand with a self-contained echoing boom. I thought a moment during this brief silence and made a sort of a scooping movement with my hands and found myself to literally be holding two handfuls of screeching noises, and threw those near and far, the latter growing ever fainter as it closed in.

Over and over I repeated my actions, the room slowly becoming like a sand covered arena, and I was even starting to somewhat enjoy myself, when one hit me in the back with a rock-solid punch. I slowly rose to my feet, burning with something of a homicidal rage, and flung a fist of my own at the assailant, smashing, pulverizing it and then everything else that had the misfortune of being able to move or be in my line of sight. Reflecting for a moment after the sweat on my body stopped escaping into the air as steam, I realized that the sound in my hands were something between cudgels and mattocks that had been striking with all the force of my temporary angered lapse of sanity. I also noted that the room was twice as large and pocked with craters.

Calming myself I threaded my way through the now moon like landscape into the third of the four rooms and upon seeing the next challenge was nearly bowled over by the wave of doubt that issued forth eagerly and manically to greet me as though nothing else mattered. That very same dark aura was slowly beginning to trickle into me, corrupting me, making me want to give up and die where I stood.

But then something else surfaced in this inky pool of self-doubt, something deep-rooted, something from within me. Words came to mind, "…is the mind killer, fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration…" and with those words came a steely resolve, pure and unscathable, reminding me of why I was here. I had come to avenge my friends and colleagues, victims to this horrid mind-flayer, this thought leech, this sucker of innocent and lively souls, having slain the legends of countless heroes before they ever even had a chance to surface to their place in the myths of old and new alike.

Yes, vengeance is my purpose, my passion, my destiny in this cruel world I call home.

I shone radiantly now like an ascending angel, striding forward through this small sea of misery unhampered and unhindered as though it feared me much as it had tried in vain to make me fear it and myself. Indeed, when I touched it, the radiance fairly flew out of me and through my fingers, the two opposing forces, as opposite as pure black, if it could be called such, and the purest of pure white, nullified one another and were gone forever.

Speaking of 'pure' black… "There. Right there. The monolithic manifestation of all that I hate, all that I stand against." I was right there … for a better word, Looming right there before me. It was indescribable, as far as I could tell a monstrous rectangular block of solidified nothingness, a seamless black hole, sucking in my thoughts, the shadows, even the very essence of nothing itself. We recognized one an others presence simultaneously, and then there were three seconds of nothing, the calm before the storm that would revolutionize the world.

**Then everything erupted at once.**

My rage surfaced now again, twenty-thousandfold of what it was before, it surged forth throughout me, taking me with it, I charged headlong at the incarnation of this ancient evil, entirely oblivious of all else. Terrifying nightmares erupted outward, issuing forth in an endless stream, the types of horrors that the most deranged psychos this society had to offer could only dream about. We met halfway, they were strong, but the force my will was stronger still. Blindly, madly, yea insanely I bashed my way through them, my progress slowing as I got nearer, but never yielding an inch. Bloodied and bruised as that I was, I rammed into it with every ounce of strength I could muster, sending its flow of freakish abominations skyward, and toppling it over, the tremorous impact at the end of its decent resounding in the world's Dullest thud unimaginable and ceasing its formerly unrelenting assault.

A single crack branched over the surface, and then there were more dull thuds as the spewed freaks landed, and clambering to their feet or tentacles, or whatever else they propped their disfigured selves on. I found myself jerked back as something reeled me in and away from my painfully sought quarry; I twisted as best I could, and slammed into its face feet first, splattering it against the droll and featureless wall behind. I rose, my rage and hatred bubbling again, and faced the fallen muse, and the gruesome hordes that stood between us, clacking in anticipation for a kill.

This time though, I did not charge. No, this time I erupted, ripping, cascading through them like a blade of pure magma through a wall of butter. My every dark thought, as was the newfound nature of this place, became a fierce reality, eradicating them from all mind, existence, and nonexistence all at once. More shuffling golems arose, and were turned to immobile puddles of evaporating glass, my foe, hidden behind these diminishing ranks shifted, became itself a looming shadowy avatar of my fury, dodging nimbly away in time as I shattered the last shreds of its legion of contorted minions.

We fought now, both growing more and more in our powers as one, both feeding from the roaring furnace of emotions locked away within my tortured soul. We battled on, matching stride for stride, strike for strike, and blow for blow. Then it hit the floor, and the fist came out behind me, it must have, for it shattered my knee, and I fell back painful, and lay there as mine enemy bore down on me, raising a fist like shadow black granite high for the triumphant final strike.

But inspiration struck first. Much as I had done earlier with sound, I now gathered all my pent-up rage into the palm of my hand, and with a thought formed it to the semblance of a warhammer-like sledge. In a desperate last stand, I brought smashing into the oncoming fist, turning it to shards. The monster reared back, I rose painfully with it to stop in a kneeling position, and deftly shattered both of its legs at the knee in one fell swoop, an eye for an eye to coin the phrase. I continued the momentum of it around again, knocking a gaping hole in its chest and throwing it several yards back. Pitifully it sidled backwards on three stumps and one good arm, so unwilling to surrender now I forced myself up, ignorant of the physical pain and hobbled forward, using my sledge as a crutch. Standing, towering over it I raised the massive hammer that was growing more so by the second above me, and with a final cry yelled, "WRITER'S BLOCK, THOU ART BANISH'D!", and turned the beast's head to powder.

Tired and fatigued I collapsed on its remains, content that my vengeance was fulfilled, and the tormented creative souls of my fellow writers freed.

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"Right…" Violet says with a sigh of relief. "I should get back to work now," she says, smiling at the relief of the greatest challenge that can impede any writer, real or ghost, by flighty thoughts of fantasy and other such distractions here at CH Postal Company on slow days.

No longer will her imagination prevent her from fulfilling her purpose…at least, for now.

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**Please review, your feedback is most appreciative. We will write more one-shots if reader response is great enough.**


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